


I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future

by fandomfairytales



Series: To Keep Christmas Well [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Did I Mention, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Idiots in Love, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Is it au?, Library Sex, Pining, Second Chances, Sort Of, Strictly Dramione's Yuletide Magic 2018, The Author Got distracted by It's a Wonderful Life, Theo is Jacob Marley, Time Travel Fix-It, but i promise it will be fine, but not really enemies anymore, ghosts are not what they appear, i couldnt resist adding smut, its just the graveyard scene, its my weakness, sloooooww burn, so here's the Scrooge redemption i always thought Dickens missed, tagging for character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 21:05:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17067101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfairytales/pseuds/fandomfairytales
Summary: Written for the Strictly Dramione Yuletide Magic fest 2018.I chose two prompts and wrote two unconnected fics, so I'm going to make this a series to cover both entries.oOoSummary: Prompt 47:A Dramione Christmas Carol: legendary rich and foul-tempered Draco Malfoy gets richer and fouler every year. Especially around Christmas. Why is he so foul? And rich? Why doesn't he care that everyone fears and loathes him? It's up to three magical Christmas spirits to sort it out.





	1. Stave One

**Author's Note:**

> All the love and thanks to my wonderful Beta @daynaann for putting up with my raving and procrastinating on many a hangout.
> 
> I really hope I've managed to capture the spirit of A Christmas Carol and the tone set in the prompt. I've done my best to fuse both tales in such a way that it feels like a secondary telling of A Christmas Carol with an alternate resolution. 
> 
> Dealing with such meaningful subject matter, I decided to keep as close to canon as I could for D&H's pre-existing relationship- their past was enough of an obstacle to remedy and I found that it fit well as an alternative to Scrooge's fiance leaving him. Originally I had that as the obstacle, but it didn't feel quite right, so I settled for a redemption arc over their last few years at Hogwarts - all characters are 18 when the E rating is earned.

 

 

Prologue:

“He looks tired.”

“When has he ever looked rested though?”

“Ugh, who cares? he’s crotchety and old, of course he looks tired.”

“I swear he gets richer and even more foul-tempered every year”

“Seriously, when will the old man do us all a favour and retire?”

“Well, you all know I bet on next February.”

“Wish it’d happen near Christmas, if we didn’t end up with a bonus, at least we’d get to spend it in peace”

“Very true…”

 

oOo

Draco Malfoy couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by the break room observations of his underlings. They rang true; why bother getting in a huff about them? Once upon a time, he might have cared, but no longer. He had nothing left to prove. As was his right; richer than the queen the prophet had said…

Draco Malfoy; the reformed (well he was trying to be) nineteen-year-old death eater trying to bring his family’s company back from the brink, would have screamed at his employees until he was hoarse for their lack of respect.

Twenty-five and officially the sole heir to the Malfoy shame, he would have gone home after work and drank until he couldn’t see straight. But, all the alcohol in the world couldn’t stop the stares of those who thought he should have done the honourable thing and followed his parents into the afterlife.

At thirty, a billionaire in his own right after moving his family business into the muggle market; he would have gone on convincing himself that being miserly was all that could make him happy, not the approval of the outside world. He worked harder than anyone to get to the top, he deserved to revel in the spoils of it…

Fifty and unfeeling; Over the years, his heart turned as cold as the galleons and pounds his many enterprises raked in; and it was just as unused as his numerous vaults, locked away behind his ribs, a prisoner to his mind’s greed. He was every bit a modern Midas, everything he touched turned to riches; investments, stocks, patents (whatever he could get away with under the statute) you name it, he had a hand in it. But he never stopped to think about why it no longer felt satisfying.

Draco Malfoy aged eighty-six; the eternal bachelor, no heirs to speak of, and still living up to the characteristics of his namesake. He finally no longer cared what others thought of him. There wasn’t a single employee that thought kindly of their boss; he knew exactly what they liked to call him behind his back and criticized them for being unimaginative, rather than getting enraged over the insult itself… ‘Dragon,’ really? He supposed in some twisted way, he appreciated the vitriol I inspired in others, it wasn’t like he would ever have inspired anything else.

He made them all miserable with his I words, fiery temper and avaricious ways; but at the end of the day, he never managed to lose any sleep over it. Men with money and people to keep making it for them tend to sleep very well.

 

oOo

24th December 2066-

Draco Malfoy sat alone in his library, trying to read some novel or other and having no luck concentrating. It was a stormy night, lightning flashed intermittently making shadows dance about the room and though it had been decades since the second wizarding war, the halls of Malfoy manor still spooked him on nights such as this. He felt reverted, he had long since trained himself out of looking over his shoulder in his own home, but cracking thunder reminded him of battles long since passed and of the man who inspired such violence; so, he was forced to fight the urge to sweep the area for long-dead enemies.

It was late, not long before midnight and most times he knew better than to push his aged body to stay awake let alone seated on an uncomfortable desk chair. He was just about ready to turn in when the air around him turned frigid. He knew exactly what it meant.

If anything, he was annoyed at the intrusion, until he saw the face of the spectre that appeared out of the abstract mist before him.

“Hello Drake, you’re looking…old”

“As are you my friend, and rather dead I might add.”

The ghost of Theodore Nott inclined his head and Draco was reminded of how familiar that mannerism once was to him.

“Why have you come to pester me at this late hour?”

“Well, you’re my unfinished business of course.”

“Oh? And how is that so?”

“Because we led similar lives and I do not want you sentenced to the same purgatory I’m in.”

“Similar lives? Bah! I was ten times richer than you by the time we were forty.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about Draco, I don’t think I could put up with your spirit for eternity. You spent your life competing for everything you didn’t need, I spent mine a step behind you and look where it got me; I forged every link with my own ambition and greed.”

The ghost of his former house made held out his arms, laden with thick chains and Draco felt a sting of pity in his long dormant heart.

“And what do you propose to do about it? You’re dead.”

“Well, it’s not what _I'm_ going to do about it; I’m here for myself really…Three spirits are coming to pass judgement on you, there’s a lesson to be learned here and all I-- When they sentence you just promise you won’t forget about me?”

Not thinking much of his deceased friend’s warning, Draco decided to play along; clearly, the afterlife had sent the man mad. He gave his word and in an instant, Theo was gone, just as quickly as he came.

Dragging his stiff body out of his chair, he sneered at the spot his friend had appeared, thinking himself very clever, having placated him with a false promise. He left the library with barely a second thought for the warning he had been given, discounting it as madness or perhaps a joke; but his subconscious mind hadn’t and when he finally managed to fall asleep it was far from restful.

 

oOo


	2. Stave Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ghost of Christmas Past appears, how long will it take for Draco to figure out that it isn't a dream?
> 
> Was there ever a moment in time that may have fostered his redemption?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. There’s more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!”  
> \- Charles Dickens, a Christmas Carol.

December 24th 2066- Half-Past Eleven Post Meridiem:

 

It had been a long day dealing with an array of incompetent people more interested in celebrating Christmas than they were on completing the tasks set to them. Goofing off was not to be tolerated so he had been sure to drop by his offices unexpectedly for the joy of docking pay and perhaps firing if it was warranted. 

By the end of it, Draco was weary, sore and seething. He wasn’t running a charity, the wages he paid his workers were more than fair, provided they actually did their work. 

Listening to them blubbering over docked pay was not how he had wanted to spend his afternoon. 

But his troubles were soon forgotten and by evenings end, he was more than ready to fall into the peaceful oblivion sleep offered. 

Little did he know, it was not meant to be. 

In the middle of the night, around what muggles might call the witching hour, he was startled out of sleep by his own sense of paranoia. 

For once it was founded; he was not alone. At the foot of his bed hovered a spirit that filled the room with flickering candlelight. It glowed brighter and brighter until he was almost blinded and then out of the ethereal aura he began to see a face. 

His recognition was not instantly sparked by the ghost’s features, but as soon as it spoke, he knew exactly who had come from beyond to torment him in his old age.

“Hullo ferret face!”

Now he understood why teachers were annoyed (if occasionally awed) by the Weasley twins, they really were bothersome. Fortunately, he was only faced with one and as far as he was aware George was still alive, so he assumed the face this spirit had chosen was Fred’s.

“Why are _you_ here?”

“What, no hello? Geez, you really are one rude old bastard.”

“I am well aware…”

“Fine then. I’m here to give you a blast from the past.”

“Yes, but why you? I hardly knew you.”

“Hm… Well, I’m not technically Fred, so I don’t really know, I’m just borrowing him for a while; though I suppose maybe that’s why? And you can’t deny I’m rather non-threatening. Besides the real Fred never got a future, so it’s sort of fitting my being the ghost of Christmas past, isn’t it?”

“Oh, very well then, I’d rather like to go back to bed so do hurry up with whatever you plan to show me.”

In an instant, Draco was transported. He didn’t recognise where he was at first, but as soon as he saw his family dining set where it had once stood (before and during the reign of Voldemort) he knew. 

Whatever strange magic had done this, he wanted out. Wailing for the ghost to return and take him back, he found himself alone in his vision and forced to watch the cold affair that was Christmas with his parents at the age of ten. 

The world around him had taken on a morbid hue, everything was dull and lifeless; just as he began to wonder why, the ghost of Christmas past reappeared, his warm aura swallowed by the gloom of his home. 

“Why are you showing me this? It's just a normal Christmas?”

“You really don’t see it do you?”

“See what?” 

He snapped, only to be met with the ghost’s knowing look.

“Or has it just been so long you don’t remember how it felt?”

Draco watched on as his younger self, pallid and bathed in shades of dreary grey, sat in silence with his parents over a decadent meal, it seemed to drag on for hours and then mercifully, he was finally able to leave. The scrape of his chair earned him a look from his mother but that was all the reaction the young boy was afforded. His boyhood form asked to be excused and bowed before exiting with tears burning in his eyes, wondering why his parents had him if they were just going to pretend he didn’t exist. 

“This was the furthest thing from normal.”

“Well, how do you define normal? It’s different for everyone, surely you cannot judge me for that?”

“You think I can’t? That’s the point of all this.”

“Well then show me what _you_ think normal is!”

It was almost sickening being ripped from one time to another and Draco had to catch his breath before he could look at what was before him. 

Images fluttered around him, all people he had once treated poorly or looked down on in some way. So many faces…He saw Longbottom in St. Mungos with his parents, Looney Lovegood picking herbs with her father to make a wreath for their door, Granger and her parents decorating a tree- Then it all stopped, and he was standing in a shabby house, without ever stepping through the door. It was the antithesis of his own home; instead of lifeless, pressing silence there was laughter and chatter echoing brightly around the space; the light was gold and cheerful, like something out of a dream and the smell, it was overwhelmingly enticing… 

He had forgotten just how much he had wished Christmas had been like this when he was a child. Then he realised why Fred Weasley was the spirit’s chosen façade. 

As a boy, he had secretly wished for a family like theirs. Money couldn’t buy food cooked with love, or thoughtfulness among other things his family lacked. It had to have been the same year as his own example, the family were making a fuss over Weaselbee, telling him that next year he would have to stay for Christmas at Hogwarts, just to experience it for himself. 

His long-suppressed yearning began making a resurgence as he watched them take their seats around the tree, nibbling on cookies and handing each other gifts with genuine smiles. For the first time in Merlin only knows; Draco Malfoy shed a tear. 

The spirit seemed to be aware of the effect this vision was having, and he felt the pressure of a hand being placed on his shoulder. 

“Would you like to see something else?”

“Yes… Please, can you show me if I ever had a chance at- Well, this?”

“There weren’t many, but I think I know of one…”

The third time travelling wasn’t as bad, it wasn’t so unexpected, but he felt his stomach drop anyway. He knew exactly where he was, and it made perfect sense. 

He stood behind his younger self and his Slytherin housemates watching students from Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons milling about in their finest formal robes (well all except for Weaselbee in his hand-me-downs). 

Aware that none of them could see him, he took the time to inspect his friends; he knew she wouldn’t be arriving yet 

They all looked so young, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Theo and Blaise; all with such potential, had they been wise enough to see the folly in accepting their parent's beliefs…

When he was done marvelling at his peers and his own youth, he returned to the spirit who was absently watching the crowd. His attention instantly returned to his task once Draco took his place, the spirit then made it clear he was expecting something of a confession from the elder Malfoy. 

Seeing as he was forced to endure the unknown, he decided to be as vague as possible, besides it wasn’t exactly easy to explain. 

“Watch the doors. She’ll be here in a moment and you’ll understand.”

For the second time in his life, he had the privilege of watching Hermione Granger make her entrance into the Yule Ball. It seemed so innocuous to her, he had to wonder if she knew just how many she affected because in truth it was nothing short of grand. He understood why the ghost had chosen to bring him here. 

Not even he could find a way to tear her down. Of those in attendance that night, he was the most likely to try, but instead, he saw past his hatred and prejudice and witnessed her true beauty, only understanding it for what it was the second time around. He directed the Ghost’s attention to his younger self and both of them found humour in his past expression.

Her dress seemed to float around her, its periwinkle waves blending perfectly with the winter tones of the Hall and for a second time he was struck dumb. He watched his younger self follow the witch with his eyes and remembered the way his world focused on her as he took in her fledgeling curves, tamed hair and merry brown eyes, paired with a resplendent smile that would take anyone’s breath away.

“It’s a shame you allowed what this night taught you to go to waste.”

“I never realised it held so much significance.”

“It was the first time you saw the truth, but you did nothing with it.” 

“I know, but I was afraid. Even now I remember how terrified of it I was. Still, would it have changed anything? Even if I had the courage to apologise to her, she never would have forgiven me.”

“Well, you can’t really say that, can you? I mean, you never asked, so how can you know for sure? She never had the chance to decide.”

“Look, I’m old enough to know people don’t forgive the type of pain I caused.”

“And yet on this night, you shed your beliefs like the skin of your house mascot. Why?”

“If I knew we probably wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

“You fell for her, didn’t you?”

Draco was none too pleased with the spirit’s accusation, but it was the truth. 

“Yes, and despite my entitled selfish nature, I did the right thing, I left her alone.”

For every negative thought he had about her after the Yule Ball, three arguments sprung up in his mind to replace them. Every time he called her mudblood, his heart ached a little more; until he could scarcely believe he had secretly fallen for the one person he could never have. Then everything went to hell and a series of poor choices led him right into the suffocating dark.

“Is that why you kept to yourself all these years, cold-hearted and lonely? Became a crotchety, bitter old man like your godfather? Because you couldn’t get over someone you couldn’t have?”

“It was never about what I couldn’t have; It was about the first and only selfless thing I ever did in my life hurting more than I ever thought possible. Every second I spent being happy for her felt like a knife in my heart; I left her alone because if I had even a sliver of a chance, I was never going to be good for her, I would always have been a complication, but that didn’t stop me wanting; jealousy made me what I am… Crotchety and cold-hearted as you say.”

“I wonder what you would do if you had a second chance?”

Draco didn’t get time to answer but he knew exactly what he would do; in an instant, the vision of the Yule ball melted away and he seemed to land, alone in his bedroom once more, wondering what possessed magic powerful enough to give him such terrible, realistic nightmares.

oOo


	3. Stave Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ghost of Christmas Present takes Draco on a journey of discovery; will he see the truth or remain blinded by his own notions of greed bringing happiness?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “They are Man's and they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance and this girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased.” 
> 
> -Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

25th December 2066 – Quarter Past Two, Ante Meridiem:

 

It had taken a little while, but Draco was so exhausted from the ordeal of reliving not only his own past but multiple peoples, he crossed back into the land of nod with relative ease. 

He had been under the impression he was dreaming when booming laughter reverberated around his bedroom. It took a while for him to fully regain consciousness but the moment he did, he quickly set about investigating. 

Padding downstairs in his pyjamas, he felt an odd sense of anticipation. Whatever was in his house was not only familiar, it was so jolly it couldn’t possibly be a threat. 

He walked into the dining hall and once again was met with a pleasant aura, a large man sat facing away from him but stopped laughing the moment Draco stepped over the threshold, clearly aware of his presence without needing to look. 

“So, Past tells me yeh had a thing fer ‘ermione?”

The spirit turned around and Draco craned his neck to meet the questioning gaze of Hagrid. ‘Because of course, that great oaf would be here’, he thought bitterly. The old Half-Giant chuckled, as though he could read his mind, and Draco was forced to stand there and accept that there was little he could say in his own defence this time. he’d had more than just a ‘thing’ for her, forbidden as it was. 

He knew his younger self was ridiculous, but it made no difference, the laughter still stung. He had spent such a long time trying to forget that part of his life, that to have it brought to the forefront was not only overwhelming, but it was also almost humiliating. 

“What do you care?”

“Well, I don’t really, per’aps if ye’d been less’ve a snot though, yeh might’ve stood a chance? But, it’s not my job ter talk about the past. I’m much more focused on the present.”

Draco eyed the former groundskeeper and professor suspiciously; as if anyone would ever think he and Hermione could ever have worked, even after Hogwarts there wasn’t a single common element between them, save careful avoidance on both their parts (for very different reasons). However, after his chat with Past, it seemed there was more to those circumstances than he had once thought. 

Still, he ignored Present’s comments and pressed on.

“So, I guess you’re here to show me the present day then?”

“That’d be about righ’.”

‘Not- technically-Hagrid’ shrank himself back down to what was considered his normal size and brushed what Draco assumed to be mince pie crumbs off his robes, before picking up his torch and herding him out of the room. 

Once again, he was invisible to everyone but the ghost, only this time he was simply walking down his own street. 

The Half-giant would peek in windows every so often, wherever there was merriment to be had, his cheeks rosy with delight as he pointed out the sights within. 

All it did was confuse Draco, though he did join in, looking at tables groaning under the weight of Christmas dinner and trees decorated in all manner of styles; it was all so jolly and festive, it looked perfect. 

He had understood the point of Past’s visions but walking around his own area had no value… Or so he thought; he saw Christmas ornaments and heard carols every year but was never judged on his perspective of them. 

After what seemed like a few minutes (but was actually closer to an hour or more) he found himself at his offices. 

It was Christmas, so he knew the doors would be open (why close when he wasn’t legally obliged to), but at second glance it was clear that there was more going on inside than the work of a grouchy Christmas shift. Music blared, and someone had enchanted the lights to change colour; it ignited Draco’s temper quicker than striking a match.

He longed to be seen. He was itching to fire the lot of them; if only he weren’t invisible. The office was decorated garishly in red and green, not a single person was working, the desks were covered with drinks, snacks and sweets and most of his employees were avidly engaged in a game of charades. 

His assistant (of all people) was up there, hunched over and flapping about angrily, shaking his head every time someone guessed wrong with a sly smirk. His impression was more than clear. Though in Draco’s opinion it was shoddy, he’d never once waved his father’s cane about or shook his fist. Anyone that knew him would be aware of his preference for cold cutting glares and a displeased curl of the lip. 

He wasn’t sure what kind of lesson this was supposed to teach him; perhaps that his employees had rather juvenile senses of humour? 

Present wasn’t saying much but as they left his office to continue wandering, Draco noticed the Ghost fading. This time around there was no peeking in windows, with the distraction gone, he saw the truth with fresh eyes. 

From the most extravagant places, unkind words and arguments drifted to meet his ears, those with nothing smiling genuinely among friends and family….

Clearly, it took extremes for him to understand. 

Even those he took pleasure in making feel small had turned his torment into something fun for themselves. They found a way to make their experiences positive. 

Just because something looked wonderful did not necessarily mean it was. His own life was a perfect example of that. He was just better at pretending than most. But really, underneath it all he was lonely because he gave nothing back into the world, he lacked compassion and was single-minded in his negative pursuits. The reality was that his self-imposed ignorance and want never got him anywhere… 

The second he realised, his surroundings melted away and he woke tangled in his sheets, hanging half out of the bed and unable to catch himself before he fell in a heap on the cold floorboards. 

Clambering back up, he wasted no time; calling out for the next spirit to appear. Regrettably, it answered his call.

oOo


	4. Stave Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come has answered Draco Malfoy's call, is he brave enough to face the future?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Man," said the Ghost, "if man you be in heart, not adamant, forbear that wicked can't until you have discovered What the surplus is, and Where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die?” 
> 
> ― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

25th December 2066: Half Past Three, Ante Meridiem:

Before his summons could finish bouncing around his bedroom, a figure, clad in black robes and a cowl appeared ominously at the foot of his bed. 

This time he couldn’t see a face, there was no warm aura; in actual fact the being reminded him of being in the presence of a dementor, sucking the life out of the air and he wondered if future was just another name for death. It would make perfect sense, everything and everyone dies eventually.

“Show me what comes next… Please?” 

It didn’t acknowledge his statement in any way, instead, it turned and walked out of the room. Draco hurried after it, just managing to keep up with the billowing scraps of fabric trailing behind. 

It felt like he chased the spirit for an eternity until finally, it stopped, and he realised where he was standing. 

He had been correct; The ghost of Christmas Yet to Come and Death was practically one and the same. They were standing in a cemetery beside a freshly dug grave... Who’s it was, he did not know, but the thought that it might be his terrified Draco beyond belief. 

For all the realisations of the evening, the loss of the opportunity to change was the most harrowing. In his mind, he pleaded with whatever god would listen that he be given the chance to change his ways… If only he could have his time over, knowing what he knew now…

The spirit seemed to hear his thoughts and it laughed. What a horrifying sound it was, it reminded him of his aunt, his father and the Dark Lord all in one. His three greatest fears. 

“Is this mine?”

Silence…

“I asked you a question!”

Silence…

“Tell me! Whose grave is this?”

And then he saw. 

He had barely recognised them, they had all aged, just like he had he supposed. The golden trio; or so he thought. Someone was missing, but that was more of a technicality than truth. 

He saw the flowers being carried by those in attendance and it struck him; Hermione always used to practice transfiguring gerberas, he remembered teasing her about it once, only for her to coolly reply that they were her favourite… Yet another thing he couldn’t take away from her with harsh words. 

He watched the outpouring of grief, listened to the eulogies and stories. In his state he forgot to look for a date on her headstone, if he had, perhaps his distress would have been slightly mitigated. 

Instead, he was overcome with such regret that he could do nothing but stand in a state of numb shock. The fact he had spent his life avoiding accepting responsibility for his actions weighed on him more than it ever had; he had never made his peace with her, the one he needed to most. He had always been coward, thinking he could get away with his excuses for leaving things in a state of indifference, but he had never felt so ashamed of it until he found that he wouldn’t have the chance to prove his own character wrong.

His vision blurred as he blinked away fresh, selfish tears and he immediately found himself elsewhere. There was a moment where he considered pleading with the spirit to let him return, but that wasn’t what he wanted, in fact rather the opposite; he knew whatever it intended to show him next, might be the last vision before he was granted freedom and reprieve.

They were standing inside his family mausoleum, his crypt unmarked and unremarkable but certainly his own; nestled beside his mother and father. There would be no one buried inside after him; no wife or children… Death would be just as solitary as his life. There were no mourners, no pretty speeches, not a single person there to bear witness to the macabre occasion, a stark contrast to the scene prior. And yet, it was no surprise; after all, hadn’t the ghost just told him that he had no, friends or loved ones… With the knowledge it had of past and present, the future could only extrapolate based on truth. 

Finally, the spirit spoke, Draco’s stomach dropped, and fear permeated his body like ice forming in a river. 

The ominous being began to remove its hood and Draco could have fainted, coming face to face with himself.

The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come sneered down at him with his own arrogant features.

“I don’t understand- how can you-?”

“Don’t give me that, you’re a functioning corpse, nothing more. A twisted, bitter, old man, with no friends, no family and nothing tying you to this earth save your own greed. The others all claimed you could be redeemed, but I see you for what you are; a lost cause.”

“You’re wrong!”

“Prove it.” 

The spirit scoffed, looking eerily like his father; He had almost forgotten how alike they were in that sense. His heart beat faster in his chest and his mind raced. Scrambling to come up with a response to the Ghost’s challenge. Then he found it; the answer had been there all along, he just had to admit it to himself. 

“I regret it…”

“You expect three words to save you?”

“Well, no; but the fact that I mean them has to count for something, doesn’t it?”

The spirit raised a questioning brow as if to say ‘you know it does’.

“Then you had best not disappoint us.”

This time there was no gentle melting of his surroundings, reminding him of honey dripping off a spoon, he fell straight through the floor with the final ghost’s words still echoing around him. 

It seemed like hours of nothingness and falling; he prayed for release over and over until finally, sensation began to return and he landed on a softer surface than he had been expecting.

oOo


	5. Stave Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2: Second Chances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead," said Scrooge. "But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change.” 
> 
> ― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

December 26th 1994, Eight Ante Meridiem:  
(The morning after the Yule Ball)

Draco jolted awake and snapped his eyes open, taking in his surroundings with a hungry, astonished eye. He was back in his old dorm, emerald bedding tangled about his legs and waist; evidence of a turbulent night he was certain hadn’t happened at that point in time. 

He could scarcely believe a dream so vivid was just that; a dream. He started looking for evidence, even going so far as to slap himself in the face, but there was none; until he began to recall his life; there was more than there was supposed to be, and dawn broke on the truth. It terrified him, but it was nothing compared to his relief. 

It was nothing short of a miracle. Though he supposed if it had ever happened to anyone before, they would be remiss to talk about it for fear of being shipped off to St. Mungos. 

The only evidence of how embarrassingly misguided his life had been would remain in his head. As Sir Francis Bacon once said; knowledge is power’, and what he knew held so much opportunity; Draco intended to grasp it with both hands.

oOo

December 24th 1995: Five to Twelve, Post Meridiem  
One year later.

Merlin help him, it was so easy to slip back into his younger self’s time after all, wouldn’t most people kill for the chance he had? Things were far worse than they appeared, his day to day was more of a waste than he had ever realised, and his personality made it impossible to effect change overnight. 

However, for the first time in his life, he understood how it felt to wake up and want to do things for others, even insignificant things, just for the sake of a positive reaction. He came to recognise and enjoy that warm feeling whenever he surprised someone with an action opposing their expectations. 

If he had learned anything it was that being selfish was a choice. It was a bitter draught to take, but once he came to terms with the fact he had already been declared persona non grata by most of the school, it was easier to start making better decisions. 

Over the course of a year, he took leaps rather than steps, to ensure that things didn’t go the way they did the first time. He knew it was wrong, changing the course of history, but when there was so much on the line, including his soul, he could easily stand by his choice. Besides, in the long run, he really hadn’t had as much of a hand in events as he initially thought; excluding the vanishing cabinet, there wasn’t much to change on his part… 

And when the time came, he chose the right side; Dumbledore had called him wise if only the old man knew how he came across that trait. Either way, it was his defining moment of redemption and over time the order and their adjacent organisations came to trust and respect him for it. 

Which landed him where he was now, spending Christmas Eve in the castle, safe from his parents and the Dark Lord; escaping into whatever tome he could lay his hands on in the middle of the night. 

He knew he was breaking curfew, but he simply had to find another book to keep himself awake. It was irrational, but he was afraid that if he slept, he might wake up right back where he started. With almost all of his future memories erased over the past year, the fact he remembered the ghosts still worried him.

After grabbing a book on common ailments and cures, he did his best to stealthily exit before someone managed to catch sight of him.

Instead, he crashed right into a mess of hair and flannelette pyjamas. They were covered in tiny Christmas trees and candy canes and he couldn’t quite help the blush that tinged his cheeks when he realised who was wearing them as he simultaneously hit the ground.

Evidently, knowing things about the future hadn’t made him particularly smooth. Hermione’s bag went flying, scattering her belongings everywhere and he barely managed to break her fall. 

His quick apology prompted a look that screamed ‘who are you and what have you done with Malfoy’ before she caught herself and slipped into a calmer manner. 

“What on earth, Malfoy?”

“I-I’m s-so sorry…”

He scurried to collect her scattered belongings, offering them to her awkwardly;

“…Here you go; it was my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going”

“Um, thanks; you’re just lucky I’m not on patrol tonight.”

“Why am _I_ lucky? You’re breaking the rules here too. Don’t be such a hypocrite Granger.”

He couldn’t help smiling at her, knowing that he had likely shorted her brain out with that moral conundrum, fortunately, she seemed to grasp he was only jesting and returned the expression, causing his heart to flutter in his chest (not that she knew though). 

Having forgotten they were still tangled on the cold floor, he made a move to stand, offering his hand to help her up. She looked wary but accepted it. He tugged her arm and once they were face to face, he found her looking at him the same way she tended to look at her Arithmancy homework. A difficult problem she needed to figure out. 

His mouth went dry and all of a sudden, he couldn’t focus. A lot had changed between them since the Yule ball; it was amazing, the difference an honest apology could make (and he’d had to make quite a few). Though he often wondered how much good any of his changes did him, the way she was looking at him now made it all worth it; it lacked venom and hatred, replaced with curiosity and something else he couldn’t place. 

She didn’t bother coming up with a retort and he was caught in her orbit, close enough to touch but aware of the fact she wasn’t prepared for his feelings. And yet, he still leaned in with hope blooming unbidden and for a moment it looked like she might do the same.

But with one last questioning glance, she flipped her hair, shrugged her bag over her shoulder and slipped past him, the scent of spearmint and rose shampoo eddying behind her in cloying tendrils that made him dizzy. 

‘Soon, but not yet.’ He thought glumly.

oOo

December 25th 1995: Quarter Past Eight, Ante Meridiem:

Hermione walked the halls without her usual hurried sense of purpose, taking her time to inspect the Christmas decorations lining them and appreciate the work that had been put in. She reflected while she had the peace and quiet to do so, on the year that had flown by in a whirlwind.

That was the only way to describe it; things still felt the same, despite many new developments. Her little run-in with Malfoy was evidence of that. 

She wasn’t sure why passing thoughts of him were so complicated these days. Perhaps it was that there seemed to be so much he wasn’t saying; she could see his secrets in his eyes, the kind no one else would understand… But oh, how she wanted to. Why, was a question she dared not ask herself, there was something there niggling under the surface, an emotion she couldn’t give any power to by recognising it for what it was. It was pesky though, always coming close to the surface when Malfoy caught her off guard. 

The day he took her aside to apologise for treating her poorly had been one of those times; and last night when he ran into her. Sure, he’d knocked her over, but there was something there in the way he lingered on the floor with her, then offering his hand to help her up like a gentleman would; The glint of his stormy grey eyes in the torchlight, mysterious and somehow so warm as he took in her bedhead and ridiculous pyjamas. It was like her heart had knocked on the door to her brain to beg for its freedom. 

So, she bolted, like a frightened rabbit. But running didn’t help, nor did a night’s sleep; she was still just as confused when she ventured out for breakfast. And of course, he was there with a smirk and a wink that made her stop in her tracks and hide her blush.

She took her seat at the table beside Ginny and prayed that her ‘nose for things like this’ didn’t catch the indescribable swirl of thoughts and emotions she was suffering.

It was not her lucky day. 

“Hey, you doing okay there? You look a little pale.”

“Yeah, guess I’m just hungry.”

“Oh please, I know what ‘hungermoine’ looks like… What’s going on?”

“I wish I knew Gin… I mean, how can I explain when I don’t know myself?”

“Well, let’s start with that then?”

“Sweet Circe, help me…”

It all spiralled from there, Hermione hated talking about her feelings, but they flowed out like a dam named catharsis had broken. Ginny took it all in stride, but what astounded Hermione was that she didn’t seem surprised in the least.

She had caught herself wincing the more she tried to untangle the complex web of her perception of Draco Malfoy, but Ginny was unfazed, offering the odd nod or understanding look, she listened to her ramble about her arch nemesis turned… Well, she didn’t know what he was, that was the crux of her troubles. 

She had eyes, any girl would gladly admit to seeing the benefits of his physical existence, but she continued to be puzzled by him. It was like a year ago he flipped a switch; the cruel taunts stopped, she no longer caught him sniggering behind his hand or looking at her with malicious intent… 

Then, after a few months of peace, she was paired with him on a potions assignment; he was courteous and downright amenable, in all honesty, by the end of the term she found herself enjoying his company; he could be charming, disarmingly intelligent with a dark sense of humour that fit perfectly with her own, and that frightened her… 

Not long after they disrupted their own peace, arguing about something stupid and parting on bad terms until he pleaded with her for a moment of her time and Merlin help her, she cried for a solid hour after he apologised for how he treated her; the shame on his face as he recalled the wrongs, slights and insults said carelessly over the years. If she wanted to define contrite, repentant or penitent, she simply had to recall that conversation. That was the day she knew Draco Malfoy had truly changed. 

But now, she was stuck in limbo, frustrated, not knowing where she stood; no longer able to ignore each other, they still argued occasionally but it always ended in awkward agreement and sheepish looks that masked what the other was thinking, she studied with him more often than not and found herself wondering what would happen if she just let go and let herself fall. 

Dangerous thoughts to be sure. She couldn’t be certain he would catch her, and there was Ron and Harry to worry about. But the more she spoke to Ginny about it, the more she came to realise that she was in denial and already freefalling. 

“Mione’ do you mean to tell me you _think_ you like Malfoy, or you _know_ you like him?”

She didn’t really need to respond, the look on her face said it all and Ginny beamed at her in response. 

“You know, of all the gossip I’m privy to, this takes the cake. Who could’ve guessed you would ever crush on Malfoy! I mean, not that I blame you these days; Yum! – You know, it’s going to take some serious planning to get him to admit it too?”

“What do you mean too?”

Ginny looked about ready to clap a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

“Oh. My. Gods, you don’t know?!”

Hermione prepared herself for Ginny’s squeal of delight, why she was subjected to it she had no idea but judging by the glint of mischief in her friend’s eye, she wasn’t going to find out anytime soon.

oOo


	6. Stave Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things still happen much the same, but everything is different; there is one last change in the wind to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I hope to live to be another man from what I was."
> 
> -Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

25th December 1998, Quarter to Seven Post Meridiem:

A lot had happened in the wake of the second wizarding war, wounds that would never heal, losses too great to fathom, but through it all, Hermione felt like she had someone watching out for her. An impeccably dressed, tall, pale, blond someone; her saving grace on more than one occasion. After the final battle, she found herself thinking back on the day she admitted there might be some underlying attraction between them, she was sitting in virtually the same place and it was all so vivid in her mind’s eye.

Only now she was a different person, sitting in a hall that bore the scars of war. She’s grown up and became someone who understood the meaning of ‘to thine own self be true.’ Looking over at her new friends seated at the Slytherin table (and one she desperately wanted to be more than that), she knew time was fickle and things were better off not left unsaid. 

Hermione had a plan, and this time she was going through with it.

oOo

Draco had spent the better part of three years believing Hermione Granger would never look at him twice. Having returned to Hogwarts at the end of the war, he could honestly say that he was happy to count himself among her friends, he’d done everything he could to earn it. But he would be lying if he said time and proximity hadn’t served to intensify his feelings.

Unfortunately, she just didn’t see him that way. The past few months had done wonders for his confidence around her, but every time he thought there might be a chance to admit things, they would either end up interrupted or he would miss his chance; not surprising considering how quickly she could talk and thus deflect. 

Still, he was happier than he ever thought possible, he had plans to open a business with Theo at the end of the year and maybe travel; but inevitably it was a distraction, one his friends were most definitely on to. 

“Mate, you have to do something, you can’t just mope around here whenever she’s off doing ‘whatever’ in the limited time she doesn’t spend with you or that delicious looking redhead.”

“Blaise is right, you’d stop existing when she’s not around if you could, we all know you want her; half the school knows at this point, you aren’t exactly subtle…”

“Yes, but Theo, she’s _sooo_ oblivious. If she hasn’t noticed by now that I-”

“That you what? Love her?”

Draco’s silence was enough of an answer. 

“Yeah, that...”

“You know she ended up turning down Weasley right?”

“I’m sure she had her reasons, Blaise. That means nothing.”

“Well, not to those who are blinded by luurve…”

Draco tossed a cushion at his friend in protest, flinging it as hard as he could, only to see Blaise catch it and lob it right back into his face before continuing smoothly.

“…He’s been her best friend for years, everyone expected those two to end up together and yet here she is, still available.”

“And I suppose you two geniuses have an idea? ‘Blaise and Theo’s guide to wooing Granger’ I suppose?”

“Well yeah; and guess what it’s not even a hard read, someone with your limited vocabulary should be able to understand it; ASK. HER. OUT, YOU FOOL!” 

Theo, unable to resist having the last word tacked on a very helpful; 

“Yeah! Before someone else does.”

Which naturally got him thinking his friends were right. The only thing in the way was his fear of rejection and at least if he conquered that, he would have his answer; sure, a rejection would be something of a cosmic joke, but at least he’d know for sure.

oOo

Things did not go according to plan.

That ought to be his motto in life. The first time he tried to ask her, she mistakenly assumed he was asking her advice about girls in general, his subtle hypotheticals came off as being directed at someone else (he didn’t notice her crestfallen expression).

The second attempt was while they were walking to class, and after a poorly timed step to avoid a fourth year not watching where they were bloody going, he ended up on a different staircase feeling flustered and frustrated. 

The third time was far from the charm; he planned to ask her during potions and made himself so nervous, he ruined it with his shaking hands. It was a complete disaster of Seamus Finnigan like proportions. They were both sent out of class covered in soot and ash, one feeling far more miserable than the other.

oOo

Hermione was fed up. Taking a vicious bite of her chocolate frog to remove its left leg, she sat on her bed and mulled over Draco’s increasingly odd behaviour. It had put quite the stopper in her plans to test out how he felt about her.

Her friend; a title that still surprised people, considering it had been three years in the making; had grown increasingly clumsy, was obviously avoiding her and seemed far more jittery than normal; so much so, she had begun looking into magical maladies to explain it. 

With Draco so distant, she was finding it hard to work up the courage to tell him about her feelings toward him; then he went and asked her for advice about what kinds of things girls like to do on dates and she found herself holding back tears. That was certainly a new development and an unpleasant one at that. 

However, two weeks passed, and she heard nothing about the Prince of Slytherin’s new flame. The rumour mill simply had nothing to turn out about him and it gave her new hope; so, she decided that being Christmas, there was no better time for new beginnings and began preparations for what she hoped would be a charmingly bold move and not a colossal mistake. 

She decided the library would be an apt place to carry out her plot. It would be perfectly ordinary to meet there and it would be deserted, thank Circe for small mercies. She took her time wrapping his gift, the silvery green, holographic paper glinting in the flickering light; it was all part of the plan and she smiled at the thought of his reaction. 

Forgoing sending an owl, she quickly folded and charmed a note for him, sending it along with a puff of breath and a little extra prayer, just like he’d showed her.

oOo


	7. Stave Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware, here there be rating hikes 
> 
> mostly because I have poor impulse control, just like these two cuties :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me.’’
> 
> -Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol.

December 25th 1998, Continued: Eight Post Meridiem,

 

This was it. This was his chance, as soon as the little note ceased fluttering in his hand, he felt the wind change. He devoured the single word in her neat script, her initial at the bottom curling and elegant. 

_Library?_  
_H._

He didn’t think he’d ever ran so fast in his life. By the time he stepped through the doors he was a verifiable mess, his hair was ruffled, his cheeks were pink, and he was so out of breath he could barely enjoy the scent of old books that greeted him like an old friend. 

It didn’t take long to find her, her favourite table (claimed for the best light) was right at the back and he knew the path blindfolded. She was seated with her back to him, nose already in some textbook or other and his heart gave an encouraging if anxious throb. 

The second she heard him coming up behind her, she stood to greet him. Her inviting form meeting his own for a hug that he wished could go on for eternity. Little did he know there were better things they could spend that time doing. 

“Draco!”

“Merry Christmas, Hermione.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Anything pressing about this library rendezvous, or did you just want company while you browse?”

He noticed her chewing her lip distractedly and couldn’t help but wonder why. It took her a moment to realise he’d spoken, and he found it rather adorable that she was lost in her thoughts yet again. That ‘deep in thought’ look of hers was one of his favourites. 

“I um… Well, I had your Christmas present with me and I haven’t seen you around today, so I figured you’d eventually come here for a book; kill two birds with one stone and all that, you know.”

With one quick, jerky movement she pressed a small, thin box into his hands, the wrapping paper shining up at him in fascinating, ever-changing shades of emerald. He was remiss to tear it, instead, he carefully lifted the tape until he could free the box from its confines. 

It was his turn to be confused, his brow furrowed, and he wondered if it was some kind of puzzle he was meant to figure out. Nestled inside was a sprig of mistletoe and he wasn’t quite sure what she was trying to convey with it.

A second later and he didn’t have to wonder, it was more than he could have ever hoped. Hermione Granger was evidently the most unsubtle person he’d ever met. Not that he was complaining. 

She surged forward and pressed her soft, rosy lips against his own. It took milliseconds for him to take it all in; her hands clutching his jumper, steadying herself and pulling him in, the warmth of her smart little mouth pressed against his own; it was heaven and the enthusiasm of his reciprocation was almost comical. 

The feel of her pressed against him was sublime, her gift lay regrettably forgotten at their feet, no longer necessary (but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to keep it pressed between the pages of his copy of Hogwarts; A History). 

He deepened the kiss and they fell into sync; her hands were no longer trapped between them and instead, she wound her arms around him tight as a vice, while his own found their way into her hair, satisfying his persistent desire to know just how it felt between his fingers. At last the world was right.

oOo

Hermione wasn’t really the type of girl to wax poetic about romance, she was all logic and science; but there was nothing measurable when it came to the sensation of kissing him, nothing she could provide evidence of, or pin down long enough to record.

Having almost lost it at the suggestion of a rendezvous (sometimes it was like he could hear through her mental walls), she did her best to find her concentration and her courage. 

It wasn’t hard, his hopeful confusion was enough to spur her on. She was so content with herself that she barely noticed his lips had left her own to lave at her neck, it was utterly sensational, and she felt the warmth of it spread throughout her body, settling at her core. In an instant, she wished she hadn’t picked the library, but beggars can’t be choosers.

A tentative roll of her hips told her everything she needed to know about the state he was in, and his resulting groan cemented her plans for where this was going to end. 

Hoping her coordination wouldn’t fail her, she jumped and managed to end up with her legs wrapped around him, supported by his wonderful hands. His jumper was tugged off in seconds and she made short work of his shirt buttons, kissing whatever newly bared skin she could reach while her own clothes were similarly discarded.

He seemed equally fascinated with the discoveries he was making if his sweet, half babbled endearments were any indicator. 

“Hermione… Ma chérie… Fuck, you’re resplendent…”

It was nice to know his vocabulary hadn’t been completely lost, even after her bra vanished; The second he found his way past the hem of her skirt was the death of hers (oh well). That first brush of his fingers along her slick folds brought relief and tension, she needed more, and she wasn’t afraid to ask for it. 

He granted her wishes perfectly, before unashamedly asking in that gorgeous voice of his;

“Can I eat you out?”

What was meant to come out as ‘I don’t know, can you?” ended up sounding more like;

“Fuck, _pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease_ ”

As he kissed his way down her body, taking his torturous time.

oOo

Of all the ways Draco expected things to go, this was the ultimate outcome. The sight of her spread out and dripping before him was quite literally something out of a dream. Already having pocketed her underwear, as soon as he reached the apex of her thighs, he sought her most sensitive spot eagerly, when he finally paid attention to her clit, her grip on his hair tightened and he decided that he would gladly live between her thighs for as long as she’d let him.

Her little mewls and moans excited him more than he ever could have expected, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they would grow more intense once he was inside her. 

She came hard on his tongue and fingers, writhing against his firm hold until she was spent, before dragging him up for a messy kiss that added spearmint to the heady taste of her. 

Things gradually grew less frantic, until he realised that she was beginning to work him free of his now restrictive trousers. His belt and fly already undone, he was amazed at how good she was at distracting him. 

Figuring it wasn’t going to be terribly comfortable for her lying on the table, he pulled out a chair and coaxed her over with ease. However, the sight of gooseflesh running up her arms made him stop in his tracks; reaching blindly for the nearest article of clothing, he held out his shirt for her and did nothing to hide his joy when she did up a single button. 

She smiled at him in return and his head spun.

The second she slipped down onto his waiting length, three words escaped and hung between them awaiting judgement. 

“I love you…”

There it was, his soul on display for her, vulnerable and dependent. 

He felt her surprise, the little tense of her inner muscles around him, as she registered what he’d said, he couldn’t stop the moan that followed, and in his ecstasy, he almost missed her saying it back. 

They moved together with more ardent fervour than before; each taking what they wanted and giving what the other needed, relishing in the feel of one another.

Both of them scrambled to be closer, his chest pressed tightly against hers and he revelled in the way she raked her nails down his back and buried her face in the crook of his neck, occasionally biting down on his shoulder in a futile attempt to stay quiet. 

She broke first, her climax triggering his own; she cried his name as she crested and he knew that he would always belong to her; she was life, the sun and every reason he needed to wake up a better man than the day before; and with that, his last lonely memories quietly slipped away, making room for new ones he would forever cherish.

oOo


	8. Stave Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me.’’
> 
> -Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

Epilogue:

As the years went by, Draco Malfoy lived his second chance at life by three quotes. 

The first he worked into his wedding vows, his eyes shining with tears of joy as he stood across from Hermione in her elegant white dress and stated that ‘Life is ours to be spent, not to be saved.’ Vowing before all their friends and family that he would give her every second of his own freely and gladly. 

It was a promise he lived up to every day and he found that the more he gave, the more he received; that extended beyond Hermione. Her friends became his and vice versa, hatchets well and truly buried to make way for dinner parties and playdates, her family (blood and chosen) accepted him as one of their own… And it didn’t stop there. 

Five years after they married, Scorpius was born, a squalling little treasure that made him comprehend just how lucky he truly was; and when Rose came along three years later, he realised just how much room there truly was in his heart. It came as no surprise that his wife was already well aware.

The second quote he passed on to their son Scorpius before he left for his first year at Hogwarts; ‘It’s not the years in your life that count, it’s the life in your years’. As he watched the train pull away with his wife clinging to him tightly, trying not to cry and his Rosie pulling his sleeve excitedly, he hoped that one day they would both understand what he meant.

And finally, the third; a fitting quote from a muggle story, eerily similar to his own; ‘No space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused.’ 

Well, he didn’t quite believe that one, but it was an important reminder of how different things could have been. Looking back, he no longer had memories of those regrets, nor did he have new ones to add and in his book that alone was a success. 

With Hermione, Scorpius and Rose gathered around a Christmas tree laden with keepsakes and presents, accompanied by her parents, the complete Weasley clan, grandchildren and all, plus the Potters; he wondered if life could be any sweeter. 

The answer was yes, yes it could be; because ultimately happiness comes from within. 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly hope you've all enjoyed this story, I had a lot of fun writing it. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments, kudos etc. hearing from you makes every day feel like Christmas. 
> 
> A Merry Christmas to all and to all a good Night.

**Author's Note:**

> A very Merry Christmas (or happy holidays if you please) to everyone. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments, feedback or just drop a kudos to let me know you liked it :) 
> 
> Joyeux Noël, Feliz Navidad, Buon Natale, Wesołych Świąt Bożego Narodzenia  
> and a Happy New Year to you all.
> 
> xo EM


End file.
